


shelter in your arms

by rangerhitomi



Series: 30 Days of Tomoshipping [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: M/M, Sharing a Bed, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerhitomi/pseuds/rangerhitomi
Summary: Durbe and Nasch seek shelter from a storm and find themselves in a small predicament. Except, it's not really a predicament. Durbe just makes it one.





	shelter in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> challenge theme: pillow talk

It rained for hours.

Not a summer sprinkle or a spring shower, but a cold, windy, sleety mess of rain that soaked through to the bone; it had started as a light drizzle but now resembled less a trickling stream than an oceanic torrent. In his homeland, Durbe was used to heavy rains, but it was warm. Nasch's island kingdom had devastating storms that tore roofs from houses and uprooted trees, but, like Durbe, the rain wasn't barely warm enough to avoid coming down as icicles.

Both their coats were as wet as if they'd been dumped into the ocean, and stuck to their bodies so tightly the roaring wind couldn't even ruffle them. Durbe could barely feel his fingers, and he was certain his boots were full of water. Not that he could tell. His toes were completely numb and it was a miracle he was walking at all. Mahha had his wings tucked in close to his body, keeping his head down, and Durbe thought that if they couldn't find shelter they might have to hunker down and share body heat with Mahha's wings. He hated the thought of forcing his noble pegasus to bear the brunt of the torrent.

He was so lost in thought and concern that he didn't register Nasch tugging at his arm until he heard Nasch yell over the wind.

" _Shelter."_

Shelter, of course, would have been the first thing they would have sought, had they not been in the middle of an expansive field with nary a tree in sight. They'd followed the washed-out road for what felt like miles, desperately searching for a town, but came across only one building and a stable, which were both being rattled and pounded by the storm. It had four walls and a roof, and even one of those things was better than where they were now, with no end to the storm in sight, so Durbe tossed a soaked blanket over Mahha's wings to hide them, approached the door, and pounded on it.

They waited, shivering. There was no answer, so Durbe knocked again, harder; he couldn't feel his hand against the wood. This time, the door swung open just as Durbe went to knock a third time, revealing a grouchy middle-aged woman in her nightclothes and slippers.

"Have you got any clue the time?" she demanded.

"We're terribly sorry," Durbe called over the wind, "but my companion and I need a place to stay until the storm ends. Do you have a room?"

"And a st-stall for our horse?" Nasch added, teeth chattering.

The woman rolled her eyes and gestured at the stable. "Drop off your horse and come back in, I'll see what I got. And mind the mud, don't be dripping filth all over my clean floor," she added, eyeing their filthy clothes.

Nasch cast Durbe a meaningful look, offset somewhat by his chattering jaw, but when Durbe waved him in, he followed the woman, leaving his waterlogged boots by the door.

"There you are," Durbe said soothingly, pulling Mahha into the stable, which leaked slightly and was chilly, but was far warmer and dryer than the outdoors.

Mahha whinnied softly as Durbe led him into a stall, patting his dripping mane. He pulled off the soaked blanket, squeezed it out, and hung it over the stall door. A slightly dirty, though dry, replacement lay folded in the corner, which Durbe draped over his pegasus.

"Sorry about this," he whispered, patting Mahha's face. "It's not ideal, but it's better than being outside."

Mahha rubbed his nose against Durbe's in response.

Durbe smiled and gave Mahha one final pat. "I'll see you in the morning, when this rain lets up, hopefully."

He pulled his soaking hood over his equally soaked hair and left the stables at a sprint, not even waiting to knock at the door. Inside, Nasch stood by the dying fire, shivering, as the woman of the inn consulted a large ledger at the bar. Scattered over tables and chairs were wet clothes, draped out to dry.

"Over there with the rest of the wet things," she said without looking up.

Durbe peeled his wet coat from his shoulders and hung it over a chair near Nasch, who hadn't removed his. Without speaking, Durbe reached over and unclasped it with numb fingers, finally managing to pry it away from Nasch's shaking body. Close up, Durbe could see his lips were blue.

"Do you have a-"

"Water's probably not hot anymore, but there's a communal bath on the second floor."

"And a-"

"One room, also second floor." She held up a key. "Payment up front. An extra gold if you want a hot breakfast in the morning."

"That's fine." Durbe fumbled with the purse tied to his belt and pulled out the gold, passing it over to the keep. She counted it out and slipped it into her apron. "Our clothes are completely soaked through, even our spares, do you happen to have-"

"Oh for the gods' sakes, do I look like a tailor?"

"If we're to share a room, I prefer-"

"What's the matter, ain't never seen your partner's balls before?" At Durbe's open-mouthed gape, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever, whatever, you two are pretty scrawny, I bet I can scrounge up a couple of my boy's old things." She eyed him severely. "You ain't stealing it, hear? You give it back or you ain't getting any food and I keep your things."

He had half a mind to tell her he was a _knight, thank you very much_ and that the mere insinuation that he would resort to stealing secondhand trousers was highly offensive. But he kept his mouth shut. This was his first time in this country, investigating it with Nasch on foot. He didn't know how the locals would take to him boasting about being a knight from some fancy warm island country.

"Thank you," he said instead.

She grunted and waved him on before disappearing in the back.

Durbe returned to Nasch and took him by the shoulders. "You okay?"

"Freezing," he muttered.

"We'll get you in a bath soon," Durbe assured him, leading him to the stairs.

The communal bath room was small and cramped; there was one half-sized bath, a little more than half full of tepid water. But when Durbe helped Nasch undress and climb into the bath, Nasch relaxed into it as though it were a steaming bath back home.

Ignoring the keep's jab that he'd never seen Nasch naked before replaying in his head, he stood. "I'm going to dry off and prepare the room," he said. "Be right back."

No sooner had he closed the door behind him than the keep arrived at the top of the stairs, carrying two towels and two pairs of trousers. "All I got," she grunted, eyeing Durbe's soaked clothes, which he still hadn't removed. "Don't you be squeezing water out on my rugs, hear? Do it in the basin or the tub."

His stammered _thank you_ went ignored as she stomped back downstairs, muttering to herself about going back to bed.

This sounded rather pleasant, as in his concern about Nasch and Mahha, his own exhaustion was now overcoming him as he warmed up. He unlocked their door, which was across the hall from the bath, closest the stairs, and fumbled in the dark for a match to light the candles he could make out the outlines of. After a few tries, he was successful, and he turned to take in the room.

There was one very big problem.

_Well, it's better than sleeping in the rain,_ he told himself. Or the stables, which were drafty; fine for a horse, but not for an already cold human.

"Nasch, I've got some dry clothes for us to change into," he said, reentering the bath. "And a towel for you."

Nasch's head lolled onto the side of the tub as he blearily opened his eyes. "Thanks."

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah. The water's getting cold."

"All right, let's get you to bed then."

Nasch let Durbe help him out of the tub and into the towel, which he wrapped around as much of his torso as he could. Durbe turned away and began peeling his wet clothes off, tossing them in a heap on the floor. When he was adequately dry, he pulled the trousers on. They were slightly too big, but better than nothing; as long as he hitched them back up when he walked, it shouldn't be a problem when he slept.

_Sleep_.

There was only one bed in the room, a fact he had tried to ignore, but now that Nasch was warming up and coherent, and they were both ready to sleep, it _couldn't_ be ignored. And sure enough, when Nasch finished squeezing out their clothes into the bath and hanging them on towel racks and followed Durbe into their room, he stopped at the door and gave Durbe a meaningful look.

"It's yours," Durbe said, picking up a spare blanket from the edge of the bed and climbing into a chair in the opposite corner that once might have had decent cushioning on it.

Nasch didn't argue, for which Durbe was both glad and disappointed; glad because once Nasch had his mind set on something, he never changed it, and disappointed because the chair was not terribly comfortable and he knew he would get a better night's sleep just lying on the floor. Nasch blew out the candles and climbed into the bed, and for a while the only sound was the wind and rain hammering at the walls of the inn. He tried to close his eyes and sleep, but he was still cold, and the longer he sat in the chair the less comfortable it was.

"Durbe." Nasch's voice is sharp.

"Mm?"

"Get in this bed."

"I-I can't."

"It won't kill you to share a bed with me for one night."

"I'm fine here."

"Bullshit. When you sleep, you make a-a weird purring sound."

Durbe scoffed. "A purring sound?"

"You're like a cat when you sleep. You curl up and purr."

"I do not."

"Get in this gods-damned bed before I drag you over here."

He would, too, so Durbe sighed, gathered his blanket, and shuffled over to the bed.

He hesitated.

"In the bed," Nasch mumbled.

"I don't feel comfortable with this," Durbe mumbled back, but he climbed in and wrapped himself in his blanket again. Uncomfortable though he was with the situation, he had to admit the bed was far more comfortable than anything he'd slept on since they'd left the kingdom two weeks ago. Searching for clues of Vector's whereabouts was exhausting, especially when they kept coming up with nothing.

Nasch's hand found his waist and pulled, rolling Durbe onto his back. "I appreciate your nobility," he said, "but I'm not forcing you to sleep in a chair when there's plenty of room here."

"I would have been fine," Durbe replied curtly, trying to roll over again, but Nasch pulled him back.

"Look at me, Durbe."

"Nasch-"

_"Look at me."_

Durbe reluctantly rolled over until his entire body faced Nasch's. It was much warmer here in the bed, sharing Nasch's heat.

"Don't do this, Durbe." Nasch reached out and placed a hand on Durbe's arm. "I'm not your better. We're equals now."

"You've always been my prince."

"And I was. Before Vector. Before Merag. Before-" Nasch fell silent; his voice had broken upon his sister's name, and so had Durbe's heart.

"Nasch-"

"Look," Nasch said, voice stronger now, "if the reason you're uncomfortable sleeping in my bed is because you have some idea of knights and nobility, that doesn't matter. If it's something else, I respect that. But for your sake, and mine, just stay in the damn bed and get some actual sleep so we can get a move on in the morning."

Why _was_ he afraid? Afraid to show his weakness to Nasch? Afraid that Nasch was going to show his weaknesses to Durbe, his soft side that Durbe had seen so few times before and selfishly longed to see again?

"This isn't a vacation," Nasch mumbled into his pillow. His hand slid from Durbe's arm.

"I know," Durbe whispered. He hesitated before adding, "I wish it was."

"Mm." There was a tiny laugh. "Lousy locale."

"Service could be better," Durbe agreed, letting a smile form on his face.

The wind rattled the walls again as they slipped back into silence. Too silent; Nasch had a quiet snore when he slept, and it was absent now. Though if what Nasch said about Durbe making _purring_ noises in his sleep (as if that would happen) were correct, Nasch knew Durbe wasn't quite asleep either. He lay awake, staring at the back of Nasch's head for perhaps fifteen minutes before he finally convinced himself of what he was afraid of all along.

"Nasch?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Can... can I hold you?"

Nasch shifted and rolled over. There was a faint frown on his face. "Hold me?"

"I think... it would be comforting. If you wanted me to."

"Because of the cold?"

It was a convenient way out, excusing the request as the two of them warming after nearly freezing to death in the rain. But the convenience was only a positive side effect. "Not entirely."

"Then what?"

"I just want to." _I've always wanted to._

Nasch sighed and rolled over until his back faced Durbe again. "All right, then. Don't steal my blanket."

With the hard part out of the way, all Durbe had to do was drape his arm over Nasch. But he didn't quite know _how_ ; his other arm was pinned under his body and their pillows were too far apart for Durbe's arm to reach comfortably. So he settled for sort of placing his wrist over Nasch's waist.

He heard Nasch mutter something like _for fuck's sake_ before grabbing Durbe's wrist, pulling his arm all the way over Nasch's body, and Durbe's head ended up on Nasch's pillow, breathing in Nasch's damp hair and feeling the warmth of Nasch's bare back on Durbe's bare chest. Durbe tensed at first, but once Nasch's breathing slowed, he relaxed into it, and soon he closed his eyes.

The rain pounded at the windows, but they slept the night through.


End file.
